


Standard Procedure

by swallowthewhale



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-22 10:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4832819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swallowthewhale/pseuds/swallowthewhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Kurt Hummel: I think we need to discuss the fact that you let your emotions get in the way today.<br/>Blaine Anderson: My emotions?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this: http://beatricetsukiyomi.tumblr.com/post/27651831168/agent-kurt-hummel-i-think-we-need-to-discuss-the

Blaine really does love his job. Granted, it's not what he imagined himself doing as a kid, dealing with international espionage on a daily basis, but it's worked out okay so far. "So far" being up until fifteen minutes ago, when he was informed that his partner on his next assignment would be one Agent Kurt Hummel.

Kurt is brilliant at what he does, of course, but his style is, to say the least, very different than Blaine's. Kurt is the crawling-in-air-ducts and repelling-down-the-side-of-buildings type of spy. Not that Blaine hasn't done any of that before, but he prefers getting what he needs with charm, a smile, and a dash of lying.

And now he's expected to fly out to God-knows-where and retrieve the package of God-knows-what. With Kurt. It would, under different circumstances, be an easy in-and-out type of mission, but Blaine is now very much aware that their contrasting styles will make the entire trip a long series of disagreements.

Blaine has only seen Kurt once before, at a CIA gala he'd been forced into going to. Kurt had caught his attention quickly enough, standing off to the side in a flawless suit and drinking a flute of champagne. Blaine didn't stay long enough to consume enough liquid courage to brave talking to him, though; the sheer amount of bullshit bureaucracy in the room was too much to take all at once and he had escaped as soon as possible.

But Blaine has heard enough about Kurt to worry him. Kurt's stubborn to a fault and enough of a bitch to never have the same partner more than once. It's been said that Kurt refuses to do anything in any other way than his own, and that he's often ignored his partner in favor of doing his own thing. It's never gotten anyone killed. Yet.

Blaine lands a solid punch on the bag, and startles when it doesn't give as much. Santana, his usual partner, crooks an eyebrow at him.

"I guess you heard," Blaine grumbles.

Santana smirks. "About you getting stuck with Agent Gay for your next assignment? The entire building knows, B."

Blaine steps back, rolling his neck and unwrapping his hands. "It's going to be a shit show, Tana," he says quietly.

She rolls her eyes and perches on one of the benches. "Don't be overdramatic. You'll try to charm the pants off him - literally - and he'll keep turning you down until the sexual tension becomes too much, then you'll fuck, and get the stupid mission done so you can come home and never work together again."

Blaine scowls at her. "I'm not going to sleep with him."

"Suit yourself," she shrugs. "But I'd tap that, if I were you."

"But I'm not you," Blaine says pointedly, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "I don't think we'll even be able to agree on how to approach the entry. We don't exactly work the same way."

"No shit, Sherlock." She stands and adjusts her skirt, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "You'll figure it out. You always do."

"Yeah," Blaine sighs.

"Oh, and B?"

He turns to look at her.

"Be careful."

He nods, once. "You too."


	2. Chapter 2

“No, we’re still at the airport.” Blaine glances back at Kurt, who’s sitting primly in an uncomfortable plastic chair, absorbed in his phone. Blaine turns back to look out the window at the landing strips.

“Have the two of you even spoken to each other?” Santana snarks.

Blaine wants desperately to roll his eyes, but refrains. “Barely. He didn’t even say anything at the debriefing. Who doesn’t have _any_ questions whatsoever?”

Santana raps her nails against the table she is most definitely sitting on in the middle of the ops center. “Maybe you should talk to him?”

Blaine does roll his eyes this time. “And risk getting bitch glared to death? No thank you. He sufficiently scared at least ten innocent passersby already, as well as the TSA at security. I’d rather not be added to the list.”

“Wimp,” Santana says carelessly.

“Bitch,” Blaine snaps back.

He can practically hear her smirk. “Kitten’s got claws. Now use them on Hummel, Frodo.”

“Don’t call me that,” Blaine grumbles. “I’ll leave him be until we land and get to the hotel. The longer I can put it off, the better.”

Blaine ends up stuck in the middle seat on a plane with Kurt for eight hours. He has yet to figure out how Kurt snagged the window seat, but doesn’t plan on ever asking him. It had been Blaine’s intention to nap, but he just can’t get comfortable. It also really doesn’t help that the sun is setting outside the window and softening Kurt’s profile into a fiery glow. He’s particularly pissed that he’s so attracted to such an asshole of a man. Blaine closes his eyes resolutely and turns up the volume of his music. When he opens his eyes again, fuzzy and freezing, the cabin lights are off and Kurt is watching him. He blinks blearily and Kurt turns away quickly, looking out the window; Blaine drifts back off to sleep and wonders if he was just imagining it all.

By the time they land and make it to the hotel, all Blaine wants is a shower, and maybe a nap. Long plane rides always make him exhausted and a little irritable. Kurt is obnoxiously alert and focused, and Blaine purposefully closes the bathroom door behind him and slumps his way into the shower. He’s not going to have time for a nap, it seems, so a hot shower is all he’s got before he has to go out and see how stubborn Kurt Hummel really is. He’s not looking forward to it. At all.

Kurt has spread out his case file across the bed when Blaine finally emerges from the bathroom. He barely looks up as Blaine nudges a paper out of the way so he can perch on the edge.

“So,” Blaine hedges. “What do you think?”

Kurt doesn’t respond for a moment and Blaine wonders if he didn’t hear or is purposefully ignoring him. “I think we should scope it out this afternoon, then tomorrow we can retrieve the package.”

Blaine nods slowly. “That sounds fine. What exactly do you mean by ‘scope it out?’”

Kurt lifts a rather judgmental eyebrow at Blaine. “It means we poke around and check out security, entry and exit points, safety issues, etcetera.”

Blaine waits until Kurt isn’t looking to roll his eyes. “Okay.”

Kurt nods briskly and scoops the papers back into the folder. “Let’s go then.”

It’s sweltering out and Blaine’s glad he didn’t bother with hair gel. By now it’d be a mess, and his dark curls and tan skin help him blend in more with the natives. Kurt, though, stands out like a beacon, no matter how plainly he dresses. Kurt walks impeccably, straight spine, exact movements, watchful gaze. Blaine ambles along behind him, hands in his pockets, pretending to gape tourist-like at the view.

The building they’re supposed to get into is an upscale hotel, well known for its customer privacy policy and high class gambling. The penthouse apartment, currently occupied by a black market dealer and world class gambler supposedly has a file with the locations of CIA spies in the Middle East that he’s planning on selling to an enemy of the US. They don’t really know much of anything; who he’s selling to, where the file might be, what the man’s name is, if it’s even a man.

Blaine personally thinks the whole thing sounds a little _too_ easy. Get in, grab the file, get out. Simple, except knowing nothing about the dealer means that they can’t plan for resistance, traps, knowledge of their presence, or otherwise. It’s starting to settle low in his gut just how risky this whole thing it, and he’s sure that it he even mentions it to Kurt, he won’t get much in the way of sympathy in return. He wishes Santana were there with him. She’d understand, she’d know how to deal with this. He hopes Kurt is as good as everyone says he is.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine’s itching to call Santana to complain by the end of the day, for all he knows that she wouldn’t take any of that crap from him. He doesn’t think Kurt has said more than ten sentences to him all day, and they haven’t even gone over the overview they got of the hotel from that afternoon. Blaine’s already sketching out plans in his head, but from all he’s heard of Kurt’s methods, they definitely won’t coincide with what Kurt is most likely plotting out.

Kurt disappears into the bathroom when they return to the hotel, and Blaine settles himself onto the second bed, spreading the files out in front of him. He’s getting increasingly frustrated with the complications that seem to crop up every time he decides on a strategy, and collapses back onto the pillows. He half wakes to Kurt quietly sweeping the papers off the bed and draping a blanket over him, in the morning Blaine isn’t sure if it was a dream or not.

Kurt is already up and dressed when Blaine stumbles out of bed, sipping coffee at the desk and looking over the files once more. He doesn’t look up until Blaine is in and out of the bathroom, stepping up behind Kurt at the desk.

“What’s your take on this?” Kurt asks, glancing up at Blaine with steady, unreadable eyes.

Blaine reels back in surprise and tugs at the hem of his shirt absently. “I don’t like not knowing anything about the dealer,” he admits. “And I’m not sure if we’re going to be able to get past the security on our own.”

Kurt nods, flipping through the papers. “If we can get a key to the room, it will be easier. But we also need to make sure there’s no one in there when we get there.”

Blaine nods and sinks into the armchair in the corner. He definitely wasn’t expecting Kurt to actually consider Blaine’s opinions. “I know you don’t normally like to go in undercover,” Blaine says slowly. “But if you dress in a suit, you’ll probably be able to walk right in, no questions asked.”

“And how will _you_ get in?” Kurt asks, raising a delicate eyebrow.

Blaine grins. “I happen to be an amazing maid.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “And you’ll be able to get a job there by tomorrow?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Blaine shrugs. “Big hotels like that are almost always hiring. And if I don’t get the job, we can figure something else out.”

Kurt chews at his lower lip, gazing out the window blankly for a minute. “Okay. Get dressed. You have an interview to go to.”

Blaine leaves his curls loose and doesn’t shave, and Kurt looks a little confused when he comes out of the bathroom.

“I need to look a little more native,” Blaine explains. “And poor. No one above the lower class works in jobs like these.”

Kurt nods sharply. “What language?”

Blaine shrugs. “I haven’t decided yet. I’ll pick one once I see what ethnicity the majority of the staff is.”

“How many languages do you speak?” Kurt asks, and Blaine can’t tell if he’s defensive or just curious.

“A lot,” Blaine hedges. “I’ve never sat down and counted.”

Kurt rolls his eyes again; Blaine gets the feeling that he does that often. “Let’s go then. The sooner we figure this out, the better.”

Kurt stays behind Blaine, dressed as a rich tourist again, and Blaine keeps to the shadows, trying to avoid any unnecessary attention. Kurt sits at the outdoor café across from the hotel as Blaine finds the staff entrance, around the side of the building. Kurt spends the couple hours reading a local newspaper and sipping at a coffee. He keeps his sunglasses over his eyes so he can people watch in relative obscurity and is frowning at an oddly familiar head of hair when Blaine returns.

Blaine’s carrying a cloth sack over his shoulder and looking pleased with himself. He passes by Kurt’s table without acknowledging him, and Kurt waits a few minutes before folding up his paper and tossing coins on the table to pay for his drink. By the time Kurt gets back to the hotel, Blaine has a uniform hanging in the bathroom in an attempt to get rid of the wrinkles, and is at the desk sifting through the files.

“I’m guessing you got the job,” Kurt says dryly.

Blaine nods. “I start tomorrow afternoon.” He turns to look up at Kurt. “We should do it just after dinnertime. Hopefully the dealer will be out then. I’ll keep my head down, avoid being noticed too much. You’ll come in, get up to the twentieth floor, just below the penthouse. I’ll go up, check if anyone’s there, and if it’s empty, you can come and poke around while I keep watch.”

Kurt presses his lips together. “And if someone’s in the room?”

Blaine shrugs. “I continue my shift, and you wait around until they leave.”

“I wish we could just break in,” Kurt mumbles, glaring at a spot on the wall.

“We’d need a hacker,” Blaine says quietly. “You saw their security.”

Kurt sighs and stands. “I know. I’m going to shower, then we can figure out what to do the rest of the day.”

Blaine slumps onto his bed once the bathroom door closes behind Kurt, he’s honestly shocked at how much Kurt is cooperating with him. He had been running on all the horror stories that float through the Agency about how difficult Kurt is to work with. Blaine has no idea if all the gossip was exaggerated or if, for some reason, Kurt is acting different around Blaine than he does with other agents. It hurts Blaine’s head too much to think about, so he settles with texting Santana, letting the snarky banter distract him from the enigma that is Kurt Hummel.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine is half asleep, sprawled in the sun. He doesn’t get to do this nearly enough, with the amount of travel his job requires. Though, to be perfectly honest, he didn’t expect _Kurt_ to be the one to suggest this. Blaine had expected he would be left to wandering the city on his own for the afternoon, but Kurt had dragged him out of the hotel room with a picnic basket, refusing to tell him where they were going.

They had eaten in relative silence, actually not as awkward as it could have been. Now it’s drifting towards sunset and Blaine is lying on his back, peering at Kurt and blinking slowly to keep from falling asleep. Kurt is sitting primly on the blanket he brought, folding and refolding a napkin and bathed in reds and pinks from the brilliant sunset. Blaine thinks that this must be the Kurt that existed before Evans’ disappearance three years ago.

Sam and Kurt used to date, everyone knew and everyone ignored it, because even though there was a no inter-department dating policy, no one really paid much attention to it. Then Sam vanished in the middle of a high-risk op in the middle of Iran and hadn’t been heard from since. Blaine knows from office gossip that Kurt had been devastated, and had built himself armor in the form of unyielding stubbornness and a flawless bitch façade. Now Blaine isn’t so sure how flawless Kurt actually is.

“Why’d you become a spy?” Blaine asks suddenly, voice low and sleepy.

Kurt starts a little and stares at him for a moment before speaking. “I didn’t want to be a spy, growing up. I know some kids dream of joining the CIA or the FBI and going undercover and completing cool missions, but I always dreamt of Broadway or movies or fashion. I wanted to be famous and feel accepted, for once. But in high school, my dad had a heart attack and nearly died and I decided to stay close to home for college. I went to Ohio State and studied languages and during my senior year my dad had another heart attack. We couldn’t afford the medical bills with me as a high school French teacher and my dad unable to work at the shop - he’s a mechanic. So when I was approached by the Agency, I took the offer. It paid well enough to support my dad, and even though I’d be away all the time, it was worth it.”

Halfway through Kurt’s story, Blaine sits up to face him. “Is your dad okay now?” he asks quietly.

Kurt nods, smiling faintly. “A few years ago, Dad remarried. Her name is Carole, she’s a nurse, and she makes sure he takes care of himself.”

“You miss him,” Blaine says, and it’s not a question.

“Of course. I visit as often as I can, but…”

“The job.”

Kurt looks up at Blaine. “How about you?”

Blaine shrugs uncomfortably. “My dad was in the military,” he begins slowly. “And my brother and I… we always had to be perfect. Good grades, a part of sports teams and clubs, even though we moved around a lot. Cooper, my brother, is older and was always better. He was the high scorer on his soccer team, he got straight As and I got a B minus in math, he got the lead in the school play and I didn’t make the school choir. It never mattered that he was nearly ten years older, it always was a comparison that I couldn’t live up to.”

Blaine avoids looking at Kurt, who’s watching him with wide sympathetic eyes.

“And then, when I was fourteen, I came out to my parents. And that was it. No matter how well I did in school, how much I accomplished, it was never enough because I’m _gay_ and would never have a perfect girlfriend and have a big house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids, and my parents _hated_ that. I’m sure my dad would have been thrilled if I had joined up, but I found the Agency instead. I cut all my ties with my family and went to the Farm and I made friends who like me for _me_.”

“Blaine,” Kurt breathes.

Blaine offers a weak smile. “It’s fine.”

Kurt shakes his head wordlessly and Blaine knows he thinking that it’s absolutely _not_ fine but he doesn’t want to offend Blaine, or make him upset.

Blaine takes a deep breath and when he looks up again, his eyes meet with Kurt’s. “It really is fine. I made the choice to stop talking to my parents. I love my job, and I have great friends, and I’m happy.”

And so what if the last one is a little bit untrue?


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine has taken to wondering if he’ll ever feel like he’s not balancing on the edge of knife around Kurt. He’s never had to be so careful about what he says or does or _thinks_ around someone, but it seems so important not to offend Kurt, or make him stop treating Blaine normally. Because Blaine had been prepared for Kurt to be judgmental and dismissive and cold, but he’s _not_. And it’s throwing Blaine off.

Consequently, Blaine has gotten very little sleep, worrying about why Kurt is acting the way he is, and if it’s because the rumors are all false or if it’s just Blaine and what that could mean and just generally trying to repress the unfortunately strong sexual attraction Blaine feels toward Kurt. It does not help when Kurt steps out of the bathroom in just a towel and light t-shirt, hair deliciously damp and ruffled and Blaine is quick to get into the bathroom for his own very cold shower.

They spend the morning going through building plans and security details over and over, memorizing layouts and camera locations and staff shift changes. Kurt has earpieces that will allow them to talk to each other while Blaine is making rounds in the hotel. Blaine doesn’t shave, leaving him with just enough scruff to be less recognizable.

It’s really, really hot out. Sweltering. Blaine’s glad that the hotel uniform is made of a cotton light enough to keep him relatively cool. Kurt, on the other hand, is dressed in a black suit. Blaine can’t even imagine how much he must be roasting in those clothes; he’s pretty sure they don’t breathe at all, even though Kurt hasn’t said a word about it. Blaine’s pretty sure Kurt is a “suffer for the sake of fashion” kind of guy. Which would explain the slightly horrified glances he keeps shooting at Blaine’s clothes.

They part at the café across from the hotel where Kurt will wait.

“Be careful,” Kurt says quietly.

Blaine blinks up at him and slips his fingers through Kurt’s, squeezing gently. “You too.”

He can’t tell if Kurt’s cheeks are red from the heat or embarrassment, but Kurt nods slowly and pulls away, an odd look on his face. Blaine resettles his shoulders and turns to walk around to the hotel’s staff entrance. He keeps a careful eye on the rest of the staff, looking for someone more guilty or uncomfortable or nervous than they should be.

Blaine knows objectively that what makes him such a great undercover agent is what he went through in high school. Before the Sadie Hawkins dance he’d been bullied, sure, but it hadn’t been much more than shoves in the halls and slurs on his locker. After the attack and a month in the hospital, Blaine was tense and skittish; everyone who looked at him just a little bit oddly became a potential attacker, and even moving out of Ohio to Illinois hadn’t helped.

Blaine got tired of being teased over being nervous all the time and taught himself how to read faces; how to tell the difference between uncomfortable and unfriendly, tired and sad, guilty and ill. It was why he was snatched up by the Agency so quickly, that and his love for languages. Having no friends led to a lot of time spent alone in his room during the summer; he taught himself as many languages as he could just to keep from dying of boredom.

The mindlessness of the job leaves him free to mentally review their plan, but after the second hour of it he starts conjugating verbs in Italian to keep himself from getting too nervous. By the fifth hour of his shift, he’s made it up to the penthouse, where Kurt is already waiting. Blaine hands him the key card silently and pokes through the cleaning cart for rubber gloves.

Kurt opens the door and inch, peeks inside, then closes it. “There’s a trip wire.”

Blaine pales and leans heavily against the wall. “Now what?”

“Plan B,” Kurt says.

“What’s that?” Blaine asks nervously.

Kurt tips Blaine’s chin up with his fingertips and touches a lingering kiss to his lips. He’s gone when Blaine opens his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Blaine feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin, so he focuses on watching the hall for anyone passing by instead of thinking about The Incident. He can hear faint noises coming from inside the apartment, and this is _not_ how he wanted things to go. He can’t go in if Kurt needs help, and who knows where else the trip wires might be. It’s been five minutes.

He organizes the cart, sorting out window cleaners from wood varnishes and rug sprays and does _not_ overanalyze. He folds and refolds towels into neat stacks, counts the rubber gloves, presses his ear against the door only to find silence. He finds a pen and doodles on the back of a “Do Not Disturb” sign, scrawling out notes that loop together into _why, why, why?_ It’s been ten minutes.

Blaine gives up. He needs to talk to Santana, because even though the first thing she’ll say is to “tap that” at least she’ll make sure he’s seeing things straight. Because there’s just no way Kurt kissed Blaine for any reason other than the bomb ticking away in the room they’re trying to sneak in to. Blaine is, well _Blaine_ , dedicated to the rules and dull and bland, and Kurt is absolutely _not_ interested in him. There’s really just no way. It’s been fifteen minutes.

Blaine scrubs at the door handle, carefully wiping off all the smudges and fingerprints. He finds loose bits of thread and braids them absently, eyes fixed on the elevator at the end of the hall. He hums through snippets of old pop tunes, taps his fingers against the handle of the cart to the beat of impatience, reorganizes the wash rags folded haphazardly. It’s been twenty minutes.

He’s scared now. What if Kurt’s been caught and didn’t even make it into the room? What if Kurt’s stuck in there and can’t get Blaine’s attention. What if Kurt’s already out and didn’t tell Blaine? What if Kurt’s really a double agent and ditched Blaine? What if Kurt is hurt? What if -

The door clicks open behind him and Blaine jumps back in shock. Kurt smirks passes a small black box to him. Blaine tugs on rubber gloves and flips the box over a few times, but there’s no clasp, no lock, no keyhole, not even a seam. He frowns.

“You’re sure this is it?”

Kurt nods firmly. “It’s got to be. If it’s not, then the package isn’t in the room. Either way, we’re done here.”

Blaine still isn’t so sure, but tucks the little box down underneath the dirty towels.

“I’m going out the way I came in,” Kurt says quietly. “I’ll meet you at the spot after you’re done.”

Blaine nods and the door shuts at the same time the elevator doors open. He hurries to bend down and rustle through the boxes on the bottom of the cart, peeking through the cracks to see a tall blonde man striding down the hall. Blaine swallows harshly and stands, peeling off the gloves. His stomach twists unpleasantly because he knows this man. He’s seen his picture before, over and over and over for over a year, even though his hair was darker and his skin paler.

Blaine doesn’t let himself even consider the implications of all of that, and instead keeps his eyes down and smiles politely as he passes Sam Evans in the hallway.


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine just really, really wants to go home. He hasn’t been able to get in touch with Santana since before the retrieval of the package, and he just needs to talk to her. He needs to know what to do. Blaine had called Langley immediately after seeing Sam Evans in that hotel, and they had been put on a last-minute task to keep an eye on him. Or, Blaine had, since Sam seeing Kurt would blow the op. and Kurt is too emotionally involved to be included.

Kurt was not happy when Blaine told him that. As a result, they haven’t talked about The Incident yet. They haven’t talked, period. It’s slowly eating away at Blaine. He doesn’t like not knowing where he stands with people. He just wants Kurt to tell him the truth - why he kissed Blaine - and that can be the end of it. They’ll fly back home and never have to see each other again. Blaine can’t quite bring himself to admit that he doesn’t _want_ to never see Kurt again.

He’s been following Sam around all day. His beard is gone, to hopefully make sure Sam doesn’t recognize him from the hotel. But Sam is gone, lost to the crowds. Blaine curses silently while casually strolling through the square, glancing around for that shock of blond hair. Instead he sees a familiar sweep of brown and expensive sunglasses. He makes his way over to talk to Kurt instead.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the hotel?” he asks quietly, spreading a map on the table as if he’s asking directions.

“I got bored,” Kurt bites back quietly. “I just came out for some fresh air.”

“Right next to Sam’s hotel, how convenient.”

“Fuck you,” Kurt snaps, scowling up at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be tailing him anyway?”

“Lost him,” Blaine says shortly. “I’ll hang around here for a while in case he comes back.”

Kurt looks furious, but just stands and snatches up his book. “We’ll talk later.”

\--- 

“I think we need to discuss the fact that you let your emotions get in the way today,” Kurt says flatly from the bed as soon as Blaine walks through the door.

Blaine stares at him incredulously. “ _My_ emotions?”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Things have been a little off since the incident, Blaine.”

Blaine drops his bag on the bed and stops himself from running a hand through his hair. “Really? And what incident are you referring to, Agent Hummel? Could it be the incident where you planted a kiss on me right before a bomb was supposed to go off? That same kiss, right before your boyfriend Sam came back from the dead? That kiss?”

“Stop saying kiss!” Kurt scowls. “It happened. What’s done is done. Can we just not talk about it, please?”

“You brought it up!”

“I was talking about what happened _today_ ,” Kurt snaps. “Can you just drop it?”

“Okay, fine,” Blaine says, glaring. “Absolutely, of course. Just answer me one little thing.” He swallows harshly. “Did you kiss me that night because you thought we were going to die and mine were the most convenient lips around, or was it actually about me?”

Kurt stands. “What happened was a mistake. One I will not make again.” The door closes with a snap behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

“What ever happened with Hummel?”

Blaine glares at Santana briefly before turning back to his file.

She rolls her eyes and perches on the edge of his desk. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t spoken to each other since you got back.”

“It’s true,” he shrugs.

She frowns. “But - ”

“No, Santana,” Blaine snaps, shutting the folder. “I asked to be taken off the assignment, and Kurt was reassigned as well. I don’t know where he is, and he hasn’t contacted me. That’s it. It’s over.”

Santana looks like she wants to argue it more, but Blaine grabs the file and stalks off. She’s sure that there’s more going on than Blaine is admitting. He’s had flings and one-night stands and even boyfriends before, but nothing has ever left him this messed up for this long. She’s going to fix this, any way she can, because she can’t deal with Blaine moping around all the time. It’s definitely not because Blaine is her best friend and she actually likes him enough to want him to be happy. Or that’s what she tells herself, anyway.

 ---

Kurt’s had a really crappy two months since Saudi and Sam and Blaine. God, _Blaine_. It just figures that it would all go to hell as soon as he finds someone he actually genuinely likes. And the only person who he really wants to talk to about all of this is his dad, who he can’t tell because it’s all part of the case and therefore off-limits. Kurt wishes he hadn’t cut things off with Blaine so completely, he wishes he hadn’t kissed Blaine, he wishes he hadn’t lied.

It’s too late now, though. His boss had forced him to take off some time, which turned out to be nearly two months worth of personal days taken all at once. And while it had been great to catch up with his dad and Carole and Finn, being in Lima with nothing to do for two months has made him go a little stir crazy. So it’s really, really good to be back in DC. Even though he runs the risk of seeing Blaine. It’s a big building, though; the chances can’t be that high.

They are, in fact, much higher than he thought, because he sees Blaine _everywhere_. In the gym looking much too good in sweats and a tank top pounding at a punching bag, or sweeping down the hall in a suit with his curls gelled into submission, or coming out of the elevator at the end of the day, tired and worn-down and gorgeous. Kurt always manages to slip out of sight before Blaine can see him, but Kurt knows that at some point they’ll have to talk.

Santana gets to him before he can summon up the courage to find Blaine, though. She ambushes him, really, cornering him in the elevator and switching off the power.

“We need to have a chat, Hummel.”

Kurt sighs and leans against the back wall of the elevator. “What, Santana?”

She scowls. “It’s about Blaine.”

Kurt swallows dryly and feels something like fear squeeze through his ribcage. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” she says dismissively. “Well, I mean, not _fine_ , but you know, okay.”

Kurt nods slowly. He knows. It’s always a little weird using normal phrases in their line of work. Because “not fine” could mean upset over something personal, or it could mean injured or dead or missing. “So then what’s this about?”

“Look, Blaine told me about what went down in Saudi. Everything about the bomb and the kiss and Sam pulling a zombie.”

He fidgets with the strap of his bag. “And?”

“And Blaine’s a mess. I don’t know what he means to you, or why you kissed him, or what the hell is going on up in that head of yours, but you need to suck it up and talk to him. He’s going crazy, pining over something that could have been but not knowing if he should just let it go. So get your head out of your ass and _talk to him_.”

Kurt lets his eyes close briefly, trying to ignore the turmoil in his stomach and the aching in his heart. “I will. I swear.”

She nods shortly. “I’ll hold you to that. Blaine is my best friend. One of my _only_ friends and I’m not going to let this tear him up. So you’d best fix it.” She flips the power switch and the elevator shudders back to life.

Kurt watches her from the corner. “Is it true you keep razor blades in your hair.”

Santana smirks over her shoulder as the doors open. “Talk to Blaine and you’ll never have to find out.”

 ---

On second thought, finding Blaine in the gym is probably not the best idea. But Kurt’s already there and it’s too late to back out now. It’s nearly nine o’clock, well past the time most people stay in Langley, so Kurt’s not worried about anyone walking in on them, on the off chance Kurt gets to ravish Blaine. Because Blaine’s sweaty and disheveled and in a tank top that leaves very little to the imagination.

Kurt leans against the doorframe and just watches as Blaine swings and jabs through exercises that are obviously second nature to him, waits until Blaine slows and stops before stepping into the room.

“Hi.”

Blaine startles and spins to face him, eyes wide and shocked. “Kurt,” he breathes, fumbling a little with his gloves.

Kurt chews on his lip nervously. “I’m sorry,” he says automatically. “I should have picked a better time, but I really just need to talk to you...”

Blaine shakes his head, still looking a little surprised, and peels off his gloves. “It’s fine. I’m done anyway.” He gestures to the bench on the side of the room. “Do you want to sit?”

Kurt sits down next to Blaine tentatively, leaving plenty of room between them. Blaine angles himself to face Kurt, watching him as he drinks from a water bottle. Kurt finds it difficult to tear his eyes away from the definition in Blaine’s neck, places he wants to kiss and bite and mark.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says suddenly. “For what I said to you back in Saudi. I - I’m still not sure what I was thinking, or how I feel, but I was a bitch, and you didn’t deserve it.”

Blaine plays with the tape on his hands and doesn’t look up. “What exactly are you sorry for, Kurt?”

“For lying to you,” Kurt blurts out before he can think twice. He claps his hand over his mouth, horrified, as Blaine looks up slowly.

“Lying?” he whispers, sounding heartbroken and hopeful in so many ways that it makes Kurt’s heart hurt.

Kurt takes a deep breath. “Yes. I mean, kissing you was a mistake, but not for the reasons you think.”

Blaine rests his elbows on his knees and scrubs his hands through his hair. “I think you’d better explain, then,” he says, voice muffled. “Because I’m really confused.”

“You - ” Kurt fumbles, “you are the most amazing man I’ve ever met. You’re sweet and compassionate and brave and smart and _stunning_.”

Blaine looks up at him slowly, eyes big and cautious.

“And I’ve wanted to get to know you since I saw you across the room at that gala two years ago. I’ve wanted to kiss you since that night at the beach in Saudi. But kissing you in the middle of an op., right before we might possibly have died, that was the mistake.”

Blaine shakes his head wordlessly and Kurt hurries to continue.

“I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to wait until we were back in the States and no longer working together so I could take you out to dinner. So we could talk about, I don’t know, fashion and music and politics and stretch out every minute we have together. I wanted to walk you to your door and kiss you goodnight and - ”

Kurt’s cut off by Blaine’s hands firm on his own. “Kurt,” he breathes and Kurt is taken aback by the warmth in his smile. “Kurt, I don’t care about any of that.”

Kurt presses his lips together and shakes his head stubbornly, willing the tears welling behind his eyes to disappear.

Blaine shifts closer until their legs are pressed together. “I don’t,” he insists. “It’s enough, God, more than enough, to know that you want all that with me.”

Kurt releases his breath in a stilted laugh and slumps back into the wall. “I’m terrible at relationships. I didn’t want to mess anything up with you. I guess it didn’t work.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I’m not so great with relationships either, Kurt.” He slides a rough hand along Kurt’s cheek and suddenly his mouth is much closer. “But maybe we can figure it out together?”

They kiss slowly, exploring and tasting and experiencing. Kurt brushes his fingers up Blaine’s arm to curl around Blaine’s wrist and tangles their other hands together. Kurt pulls back a little and grins when Blaine follows blindly, whining at the loss of contact.

“Come home with me?” Kurt asks quietly. “We - we don’t have to do anything. I just want to be close to you.”

Blaine touches a series of short kisses to Kurt’s lips, smiling. “Of course.”

 ---

Later Blaine will emerge from Kurt’s shower with damp curls, adorably tiny in Kurt’s sweatpants. They’ll curl up together under warm covers and whisper secrets into each other’s skin. Blaine will fall asleep first, head tucked under Kurt’s chin and thigh pressed against Kurt’s groin intimately. Kurt will drift off soon after, but first he’ll tug fingers through Blaine’s hair and whisper into his cheek, _I’ve been looking for you forever._


End file.
